The Phoenix of the Slums

The black BMW rolled to a stop outside a discreet three-story building tucked between two construction sites in the southern end of Denghai. The air was thick with dust and concrete haze, masking the low hum of drilling and distant traffic. Tianming stepped out, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area before he flicked his wrist and shut the car door without looking back.

The building looked abandoned on the outside—no signage, no guards, nothing but faded brick and a dented steel door with a biometric lock. It was perfect. Just like Lu Qingshan said.

He pressed his thumb to the scanner. A faint beep echoed. The lock clicked.

Inside, the lights flickered on, revealing a sleek, sterile hallway lined with reinforced doors and surveillance panels. This was no ordinary warehouse. It was a hidden Orchid Society stronghold. Tianming walked slowly, each step echoing ominously. He wasn’t here for a tour. He was here to find out what Lu Qingshan meant by “someone’s been watching you longer than you think.”

He reached the final door at the end of the hallway. Beyond it, an older man with silver hair and icy, calculating eyes stood waiting. He wore a military-grade combat vest, and on his left wrist was an old-fashioned jade bracelet—one Tianming recognized from years ago.

"You…" Tianming’s voice dropped as his eyes narrowed. "You were at the orphanage. You handed me that rice bun."

The old man smiled faintly. "So you remember. Good. That means you’re ready."

"Ready for what?"

"The next storm."

Before Tianming could respond, the lights dimmed, and a heavy alarm began blaring through the building. Red lights flashed. A voice crackled over the intercom—"Intruders at the west entrance. Multiple hostiles. Armed."

Tianming’s jaw tightened. "Are they here for me?"

"Yes," the old man said coldly. "The Lotus Clan has finally tracked you. This is a test, Tianming. Survive—and you’ll earn your first piece of truth."

Tianming didn’t hesitate. He sprinted back down the hallway, kicking open the emergency weapons locker. He grabbed a black tactical staff and two combat knives. The first wave of attackers came bursting in through the steel back entrance—masked, armed with batons and short blades, their eyes filled with ferocity.

Tianming lunged forward. The first attacker swung a blade toward his throat. Tianming ducked low, swept the man’s legs out from under him with a spinning kick, and slammed the base of his staff down on the attacker’s collarbone with a sickening crack. Another came from his right—he blocked the blade with his staff, twisted it, and rammed his elbow into the man’s ribs before delivering a powerful roundhouse to the side of his head.

Three more rushed him at once.

He parried a downward slash with the staff, then pivoted on his heel to avoid a blade aimed at his back. With fluid grace, he stabbed a combat knife upward into one’s thigh, tore it out, then spun and used his momentum to drive the hilt of the staff into another man’s throat. Blood sprayed as the third tried to catch him from behind.

Tianming turned just in time, locking arms with him. Muscles strained. The attacker’s strength was impressive, but Tianming’s training with Lu Qingshan had honed him. He broke the man’s grip, smashed his knee into the attacker’s sternum, and flipped him over his shoulder into the wall. The man groaned and collapsed.

Panting slightly, Tianming stepped back and looked at the bodies scattered around him. The corridor was quiet again—momentarily.

The intercom voice crackled again. "Second wave approaching. Five hostiles. Heavily armed."

Tianming’s jaw tightened. "Are they here for me?"

"Yes," the old man said coldly. "The Lotus Clan has finally tracked you. This is a test, Tianming. Survive—and you’ll earn your first piece of truth."

Tianming didn’t hesitate. He sprinted back down the hallway, kicking open the emergency weapons locker. He grabbed a black tactical staff and two combat knives.

The first wave of attackers came bursting in through the steel back entrance—masked, armed with batons and short blades, their eyes filled with ferocity.

Tianming lunged forward. The first attacker swung a blade toward his throat. Tianming ducked low, swept the man’s legs out from under him with a spinning kick, and slammed the base of his staff down on the attacker’s collarbone with a sickening crack.

Another came from his right—he blocked the blade with his staff, twisted it, and rammed his elbow into the man’s ribs before delivering a powerful roundhouse to the side of his head.

Three more rushed him at once.

He parried a downward slash with the staff, then pivoted on his heel to avoid a blade aimed at his back. With fluid grace, he stabbed a combat knife upward into one’s thigh, tore it out, then spun and used his momentum to drive the hilt of the staff into another man’s throat. Blood sprayed as the third tried to catch him from behind.

Tianming turned just in time, locking arms with him. Muscles strained. The attacker’s strength was impressive, but Tianming’s training with Lu Qingshan had honed him. He broke the man’s grip, smashed his knee into the attacker’s sternum, and flipped him over his shoulder into the wall. The man groaned and collapsed.

Panting slightly, Tianming stepped back and looked at the bodies scattered around him. The corridor was quiet again—momentarily.

The intercom voice crackled again. "Second wave approaching. Five hostiles. Heavily armed."

The old man’s voice came from behind. "You’re adapting. Good. But this is just the beginning."

Tianming wiped the blood from his cheek. "You said if I survive, I’d get answers. Then I’ll survive."

And this time, he meant every word.